taken by cameraphone this evening, in the family room
I want a dog. The doctor will go as far as fish. He asked if I thought we should put in a Koi Pond. No, I said, unless it is going to be useful. Like big enough for me to join the oversized fish for a morning swim. And he refused to get a dog. Too dirty, to much hassle. So, when he mentioned he might be able to fashion a rough chicken coop in the backyard (with some lumber he scored from a scrap pile at Lucy's Preschool's construction zone) I had my green light. The perfect compromise: utilitarian pets.
On my way home from visiting the LDS temple this morning I stopped at Lowe's to get a hose that could reach the vegetable garden. There I began asking about chicks and where "a girl could get herself some" and I was directed to Carpenter, NC (which was right on my way home). I asked the name of the establishment. "Just the hardware store, miss."
I stopped in Carpenter Farm Supply Co "just to check it out", I told myself. Daryl, on the phone, was smoking at the register. I noticed the cozy wooden box of chicks first thing, but let my eyes wander around the interior of this original 1865 structure. It wasn't just the dust-coated stacks of Chef-Boyardee on the shelves that looked out of place, as I shuffled around on the wood-slat floors in my Sunday Best and black shiny ballet flats.
Turns out Daryl is a doll. After describing the locale of our house and the fenced backyard he assured me these Rhode Island Reds would be safe and happy at the Cicada Cottage. At $3 a pop, I came home smiling to the tune of tiny chirps in the passenger seat. Really, I couldn't stop, I was so happy.
The kids are, too. There are four (chickens). Lucy and Hazel named theirs Lianna and Ellie. Seth couldn't think of a name which is just as well because I can't tell them apart. I cleaned out a steamer trunk that belonged to my uncle's father (somehow we have it, I don't know) and layed out some bedding, water and feed. They are now next to the couch where I am sitting, sound asleep in a pulsing pile of feathers.
I don't mind the smell. It's nice to have the company, actually, while Dr. Gooch is away saving the day. Plus, at one-week-old now, they'll be hitting the clover out back for bugs in 3 weeks!
Fresh eggs anyone?